


look at you go (i just adore you)

by thebigolive



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (when lance didn't know pidge was female), Hance - Freeform, Langst, M/M, because part of this fic takes place in the garrison, give me a bit to figure out tags, hance is so pure, heck, hunk's birth name is taumām, just pure hance, only a little bit tho, pidge's pronouns switch from male to female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebigolive/pseuds/thebigolive
Summary: At the Garrison, Lance was the first to approach Taumām Garrett, sticking out a hand and offering a brilliant grin.-(or snippets of the life and the love of lance mcclain, as told by hunk garrett)title from "love like you" by rebecca sugar !!





	look at you go (i just adore you)

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! this is my first work on this site but trust me,,, i've spent a lot of time on it otherwise. wait for me to bookmark my expansive list of fics that i will literally not regret whatsoever
> 
> anyways!!!! i'm super new to this whole actually posting ur writing on the site thing although i have been writing for a while. expect more voltron fics (various ships, although there are a few i don't prefer to write), some yuri on ice and some haikyuu !! thanks for giving my writing a chance, and enjoy!
> 
> **i do speak spanish, but the brief samoan in this is literally translated with the help of some websites that might not be that trustworthy?? lmk if there are any errors if you do speak samoan!**

At the Garrison, Lance was the first to approach Taumām Garrett, sticking out a slender hand and offering a brilliant grin.

 

"Hey! My name's Lance McClain, and I'll be your roommate for the next few years! What's your name?"

 

"Taumām." said boy answered softly, accepting the handshake and giving a small smile. Lance grinned.

 

"That's the coolest name I've ever heard. My family is Cuban. Where're you from?"

 

"I'm Samoan." Taumām had explained, adjusting the yellow headband tied around his wrist nervously. This "Lance", this lanky, Cuban boy, was loud, and the Samoan wasn't used to such a thing.

 

Both of Taumām's mothers were gentle, kind, and brought him up with kindness and love. He'd always had a gentle personality, loving instead of loathing, comforting instead of cutting. Lance seemed to be not too different, although in a more extraverted way than Taumām.

 

(That night, as they settled into their room, Lance taught Taumām that "familia" meant "family" and that "tú eres mi familia" means "you are my family." Taumām enjoyed the way Lance laid in his bed mumbling "tú eres mi familia," half to himself, as his fingertips reached for the ceiling.)

 

(And if he liked it partly because it felt like a home away from home, that was nobody's business but his own.)

 

* * *

 

After a few weeks in the Garrison, Taumām quickly learned that not everyone was as pure of heart as he'd wanted to believe. He'd walked past a table as he was getting his lunch, Lance by his side, when he'd heard a soft snickering coming from a particularly nasty-looking fighter pilot.

 

"Save yourself the trouble, Garrett!" He'd yelled, his friends hooting with him. "Might as well start now in the weight management program, fatso!"

 

Taumām had blinked at them in disbelief, as they smirked and made crude gestures. He turned to see a seething Lance, hands gripping the sides of his lunch tray so hard that Taumām wondered if the plastic would crack. Quickly, he went to place a hand on Lance's shoulder, only to be shrugged off as Lance stormed away to their usual table. Taumām followed, quietly.

 

The moment that Lance's lunch tray touched the table, he grabbed Taumām's forearms.

 

"Do _not_ believe anything that they just said." He whispered fiercely, eyes glaring holes at the table behind Taumām. "They're assholes, every last one of them. _Joder_ , they're so _rude._ "

 

"A-Alright." Taumām, ever the people-pleaser, agreed easily.

 

" _No,_ Taumām, you've got to understand that you're the _best._ A damn hunk, if I do say so myself."

 

" _A hunk._ " Taumām repeated, trying to suppress a smile.

 

"Yes," Lance said, with all finality, "a hunk. In fact, I think I'll call you Hunk from now on. Just so that you always remember that you're smokin' hot."

 

Taumām (or, Hunk now), surprised, just let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

 

"Yeah, okay."

 

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Hunk learned a lot about Lance. He comes from a huge family, with two older siblings and three younger siblings. Being the middle child, he'd learned to stand up for himself, learned to be loud so that he could let himself be known. He also, however, had an impossibly big heart, and took it upon himself to act like an older brother to the select few that he chose.

 

That select few was where Pidge came in.

 

Pidge Gunderson, tech master, was the undeniable genius of the class. He could solve anything in a heartbeat, fiddle with a few wires and suddenly the simulator was "having technical issues". He was sarcastic, always looking for trouble, and, in Hunk's opinion, shrouded in mystery.

 

Pidge always disappeared to do something else, it seemed, and sometimes it didn't seem like Lance had caught on.

 

Now was one of those times.

 

"Pidgey!" He exclaimed, draping a shoulder over Pidge's small frame. "What're you up to?"

 

"Nothing that concerns you." Pidge sniffed. "Maybe if you hadn't crashed the simulator today I'd tell you."

 

"You wound me!" Lance cried, placing a hand over his heart. "How will I recover?"

 

Although he complained, he let Pidge off the hook, saying that he needed his "beauty rest" before the big day tomorrow (??). He waved to Pidge before turning the corner.

 

"He's so _annoying_." Pidge sighed, shoulders drooping.

 

"You know," Hunk commented, "I really think he treats you like a younger brother."

 

Pidge stilled, looking to Hunk questioningly. Hunk shrugged before turning to head back to his room.

 

"Just some food for thought."

 

* * *

 

The holiday vacation spent at Lance's home is gearing up to be the best holiday he's ever had, and that's saying a lot (seriously, who could ever beat Hunk's mama's chili?).

 

His mom is reluctant to let him go, claiming that she wanted to see him in _person,_ but with a promise of a summer at Hunk's "forever home," he gets the permission. Lance is almost sparkling with excitement ("Isn't that a vampire movie cliché or something?") when Hunk tells him that yes, he could go and no, he wasn't ready to go right this moment. His enthusiasm is infectious though, and soon Hunk finds himself unable to frown.

 

The McClains' house is in the middle of nowhere, it seems to Hunk. They have a goat, some chickens, and an old dog whose bones rattle when she walks. That didn't stop Lance from scooping her up, though, a grin overtaking his face as he coos to her (her name was Mariposa, Lance told Hunk, because Marisol was young and "butterfly" was a perfectly good name for a dog, and it sounded like "Marisol" too). Marisol is the third youngest child, just below Lance. She's eleven years old, and her warm skin matches Lance's almost perfectly. She's among the first to march out of the house and cling to Lance in a tearful embrace.

 

Isabela, as Hunk finds out, is the youngest McClain child, with a grin full of gaps between teeth and band-aids clinging to her elbows. She's five, and her birthday is in the next week. Lance is excited to celebrate it with her. She loops around Marisol to hug Lance's back, tears slipping down her cheeks and staining Lance's shirt.

 

Next comes Benny (short for Benito, but Lance whispers to Hunk in the car that under no circumstances was Benny to be called Benito), rushing out of the house to lift Lance off of the ground in an enormous embrace. Benny is five years older than Lance, and from Lance's stories back at the Garrison, the closest to him. He was home for the break, and he has a grin as sharp as Lance's, although he has about three inches on the younger ("Not _three inches!_ " Lance had spluttered indignantly).

 

A woman, short and large, steps out onto the porch, a content smile overtaking her features. Lance's dad, who had driven all the way out to the Garrison to get them, steps up to kiss the woman on the forehead, earning a loving look. Lance breaks away from the sibling pile and runs towards the porch, tear tracks already visible on his face.

 

" _Mamá,_ " Lance shouts, "I _missed you._ "

 

And the woman laughs, a warm, rich sound, before enveloping her son in a hug.

 

"Lance, _mijito_ , tell me, who is this friend you have brought to our home?" She asks, eyes landing on Hunk.

 

"This is Taumām 'Hunk' Garrett, mama. He's my roommate at the Garrison." Lance explains, beckoning Hunk closer with his hand. "But you can just call him Hunk."

 

"I am Rosa." Lance's mother says, extending her arms as if to offer an embrace. Her eyes are alight with amusement. "Hunk, my son says? A fitting name for a handsome boy."

 

Hunk blushes, taking the offer and hugging Rosa.

 

"Thank you, Mrs. McClain." He responds, left hand toying with the headband on his right wrist.

 

"Please, please!" Rosa waves her hand indignantly. "You are family now, call me Rosa or _mamá_!"

 

* * *

 

Later on in the visit to Lance's home, Hunk learns that his oldest sister, Liliana, is in Cuba. She works there, and still manages visits back home, although they're rare. Lance understood this clearly, Hunk realizes, but it did nothing to help the slight slump of his shoulders at the news.

 

Lance's younger brother, Mateo, had come down with a cold. Lance had immediately tended to his little brother, and because of that, Mateo recuperated in a couple of days. He's a sneaky little eight-year-old, always the hand to grab an extra bun before dinner (" _Mateo!_ "), always the invisible object to trip Lance on the stairs (A sigh. " _Mateo._ "). Despite all of the trouble he got into, Hunk always noticed the way Lance's eyes softened when he saw Mateo's giggling form, a few feet away.

 

(Hunk's heart warms at the sight of Lance taking care of his siblings, and he starts to think it's a little more than the average friendship.)

 

* * *

 

Then, one day after break, they sneak into the Garrison's kitchen, Pidge grumbling the entire way and Lance shushing him. Hunk is nervous as all hell, but he keeps quiet because, well, he is a little bit hungry and he'd be up for some quality Hunk cooking right now (Is he not allowed to be proud of his skills?). They slip into the kitchen unnoticed, sliding between the sleek metal doors without any issues (Pidge, obviously, just pops on in. Lance and Hunk have to pry open the doors a bit more).

 

Hunk mumbles about getting caught until he sees the kitchen (like, _really_ sees). Then, he's in awe of the utilities installed. He can't believe they've been getting undercooked meatloaf and soggy asparagus when the cooks have had _this_ at their workspace. He checks the fridge. Full of fresh eggs and a ton of other fresh produce. He checks the freezer. Frozen meatloaf. Hunk wonders idly if the cooks are just that lazy.

 

Idle wondering aside, he takes out a large mixing bowl, almost in a trance. Lance kicks himself up onto the counter and swings his legs back and forth, staring at Hunk.

 

"Buddy, you can cook?" Lance asks, stage-whispering to enhance the "sneaky" effect. Hunk nods and pulls out a jug of milk from the fridge.

 

"I'm gonna make _keke fa'i_." Hunk says quietly, measuring a fourth of a cup of milk and placing it over the stove in the smallest saucepan he can find.

 

"Which is...?" Lance trails off, watching as Hunk moves to the banana bunch on the counter.

 

"Oh, like a banana bread? It has filling between layers. Traditional Samoan cuisine." Hunk explains, grabbing two bananas, pausing, and then grabbing another for good measure. "Just wanted something from home right now."

 

Another thing about Hunk's background: although he's adopted, his moms thought it would be a fantastic idea to keep the Samoan tradition alive (seeing as one of his mothers was a Pacific Islander herself). They'd taught him all of the recipes he'd ever need to know, leaving him well-equipped for whatever university he decided to go to (surprise: it was the Garrison, where they provide food for you). It was particularly useful in the bout of homesickness he was feeling right now, so he busies himself with mashing the bananas and also turning off the stove.

 

Lance and Pidge chat while Hunk works, occasionally tossing in a comment that Hunk answers absentmindedly. He's completely and utterly focused on the task at hand. He vaguely registers Lance teasing Pidge, but he doesn't think much of it.

 

After a long while, the _keke fa'i_ is finally done, and Hunk sets the last layer on top of the filling before moving it onto a plate. He calls Pidge and Lance over, slicing it into three equal pieces and a half of the loaf for later. Pidge and Lance take their respective slices, Lance sniffing the bread lightly. Hunk hands them both a fork.

 

Then, the first bite disappears behind Lance's lips (soft lips, had Hunk noticed that before?), and Pidge is gasping.

 

Lance laughs delightedly at the flavor, promptly getting Hunk to vow to teach him how to cook like he did. They're both blushing, but they both pass it off as the exhilaration of sneaking out.

 

Pidge pushes his glasses up his nose and sets his plate on the counter.

 

* * *

 

They're in their shared room when it happens.

 

"Aw, man, I'm exhausted." Lance complains, sprawled out on his twin-size bed. Hunk nods his head in agreement.

 

"Not as exhausted as the one day we had to run three sims with Pidge, though." Hunk negotiates, sitting with his legs hanging off of the bed.

 

"True." Lance grumbles, rotating so that he's facing Hunk.

 

"Lance, don't try any new pickup lines on me." Hunk warns, and Lance's cheeks are dusted a lovely pink.

 

"No, no, nothing like that! You're worth more to me than pickup lines, Hunk!" Lance says, a note of truth intermingling with his words. This time, it's Hunk's turn to blush.

 

"Lance, oh my _gosh_." Hunk protests, but he's grinning. So is Lance.

 

"Hey, Hunk?" Lance says, catching Hunk in the middle of a daydream.

 

"Yeah, Lance?" Hunk prods, looking Lance in the eye. He looks... nervous? It's not a common expression for him to wear.

 

"So, I was thinking, right, and I realized that it's sort of like... common for you and I to be together? Like we're sort of inseparable, and I love that. But it's like—" Lance pauses, "I guess it's just like comfortable for me to be with you now, and it's like, awkward when I'm not with you? Oh, my God, I'm so embarrassing—"

 

"Hey, no, Lance, I totally get it." Hunk says, ignoring the flame threatening to consume his face. "You grew up in a big family, and you're not used to being alone. It's normal to be close to someone, and it just so happened to be me, right?"

 

Lance is looking at him like he grew two heads.

 

"No, I just – Hunk, _estúpido._ " Lance says, frustratedly, and Hunk knows enough Spanish cognates to know what that means.

 

"Hey, no need to get mad at me!" Hunk protests. "I'm trying here, man."

 

"Hunk – no, I just – ah, whatever." And with that, Lance rolls off of his bed and walks up to Hunk's, grabbing Hunk's shirt and pressing their lips together.

 

For a minute, Hunk can't comprehend what's happening. It happens so fast, that Hunk doesn't know what to do. Lance pulls away reluctantly.

 

"Um—" Lance starts.

 

"Lance, jeez, at least take me out to lunch first." Hunk says before he can stop himself. Lance stills, turns to look at Hunk.

 

Then, before Hunk can blush any harder, Lance laughs. A full, deep laugh, the kind that you get at 3am when nobody knows what's funny but you're laughing anyways. Hunk nervously laughs too, so that he doesn't look awkward sitting there touching his lips.

 

" _Hunk_ , you are the _best_." Lance wheezes, flopping onto his bed. "How about tomorrow?"

 

"What?" Hunk mumbles, confused.

 

"Lunch." Lance clarifies. "Tomorrow. It'll literally be no different since we sit together anyways, but we can kick Pidge out."

 

"No need," Hunk says, "Pidge can handle it."

 

"Can he really, though?"

 

And just like that, everything's fine for a while.

 

* * *

 

Until it's not.

 

Until Shiro crashes on Earth, until they take off in a gigantic robot lion to somewhere farther away from Earth than they can imagine.

 

On the way there, Lance whoops and flies the lion like he's excited, but Hunk's hand is gripped painfully tightly in Lance's.

 

(Hunk finds it easy to spot the stiffness in Lance's posture, too, as they fly through the wormhole. Lance's the first one to figure out that they won't be going home for a long time.)

 

* * *

 

Hunk's known Lance for a long while by now. He can read all of Lance's expressions, his body language. There's no doubt in his mind that they have the closest relationship on the castle ship (besides perhaps Coran and Allura).

 

Because he knows Lance so well, it comes as a surprise when one day, he can't see what Lance is feeling.

 

Lance has always been an expressive person. He never hesitates to over-dramatize basically everything under the sun, and although he seems to be so open with his feelings, Hunk knows better.

 

Hunk realizes this before training, when Lance walks in with his mouth set in a straight line. Keith follows closely after, brows pulled tightly together.

 

"Lance?" Hunk prods, drifting over to someone important to him. "You good?"

 

"Yeah." He responds stiffly, eyes closed off. "I'm fine."

 

Hunk sees Shiro confronting Keith, pushed away by a wave of Keith's hand. Hunk worries. He doesn't know what's happened, but he _does_ know that it makes him nervous. He should probably stop this before it gets any worse.

 

Hunk is no stranger to how Lance looks at himself. Underneath his cocky, confident exterior, his self-confidence is scarily low. Hunk's been working on building it back up, using gentle words (and touches), but the Voltron scenario has taken its toll on everyone. Hunk has been busy repairing the castle with Pidge, and Lance has always been more than happy to help Coran clean. But that doesn't meant that the nights spent comfortably snuggled together have come to an end. If anything, they're more important now. Lance will help Hunk with meals, too, intertwining their fingers when they both have one free.

 

Hunk mentally pinches himself for not noticing Lance's state sooner.

 

He knows that Keith and Lance bicker all the time, but it doesn't mean that it never gets to Lance. And now, as Hunk watches Lance half-heartedly shoot at a gladiator, with a shred of his normal accuracy, he realizes that _something_ must've gone wrong. And whatever it was, it must have been bad.

 

Lance struggles through the rest of the day as well as he can, making jokes as usual, but the emotional barrier that he's put up scaring Hunk a little bit. So, naturally, come "nighttime", Hunk takes action.

 

"Hey, Lance." Hunk says, pulling his pajama shirt over his head (it's yellow, like the rest of his entire wardrobe save his Earth clothes).

 

"What's up?" Lance asks, stepping out of the bathroom, having just washed off a face mask.

 

"What's up with _you_?" Hunk asks, shifting on the bed to turn his full attention to Lance. "How're you feeling?"

 

Lance chokes on a laugh.

 

"Leave it to Hunk to figure me out in less time than I thought possible." He mutters, mostly to himself, Hunk guesses.

 

"Hey, Lance. _La'u pele_. Look at me, I love you. You can talk to me about anything." Hunk murmurs, arms already reaching out to cradle Lance.

 

"It's nothing, Hunk, I just... Keith and I, we were fighting, right? And Keith sort of snapped and told me that I might as well give up hope of seeing my family again, since they've probably given up on me, too. A-And I just..." Lance trails off, rubbing his arm as Hunk looks at him. "He apologized after, and I can tell that he really didn't mean to, but it was scary, you know? Realizing that... that your family might have given u-up on finding you."

 

"Oh, Lance." Hunk sighs, rubbing Lance's back as he cries into Hunk's chest. "I know Rosa. There's no way they'd give up on you. No way in _hell_. Rosa would singlehandedly take down Zarkon if she knew what was happening."

 

Lance huffs a wet laugh.

 

"Yeah, she'd be all _'what are you doing with mijo, cabrón?_ '. Zarkon wouldn't stand a chance against _la chancla de mi mamá_." Lance imitates his mother, taking on an authoritative tone. Hunk laughs.

 

"Damn straight."

 

Lance sniffles a few more times before Hunk lets them fall back onto the mattress, heads resting on the pillows. They lay like that for a while.

 

"'Unk?" Lance murmurs, almost asleep.

 

"Yeah, Lance?" Hunk responds, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

 

"You're th' best, 'unk." Lance mumbles. Hunk smiles as Lance's breaths even out and sleep takes him in its gentle arms.

 

"I love you, Lance. More than you probably know." Hunk says softly, letting his eyes flutter shut.

**Author's Note:**

> u made it :0 !!! thank you for reading! leave any comments below, lmk what you thought!! i'm totally down for any requests and stuff too?? depends, honestly, but anyways!!
> 
> thank you for readingggggg


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